


Sherlock x Reader: Forget Me

by KingOfHearts709



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4330890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingOfHearts709/pseuds/KingOfHearts709
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's better to just forget than to hang on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock x Reader: Forget Me

**Author's Note:**

> Well, then. xoxo

You looked over the body, noting key details around the hands and face.  
“Got anything?” you heard John’s voice. You nodded and started deducing.  
“He was murdered, obviously,” you started. “Based on the slightly inked hands, he worked for the newspaper, not too often, though. He had a sister who didn’t like his wife and refused to talk to him, his face shows signs of smoking cigarettes, often due to stress, and he had a tendency to talk out of turn, hence the mangled clothing.” You pulled out your phone and texted someone. It wasn’t until you sent it that you had texted Sherlock. You sighed and tried to fight back tears.  
‘It was the father. -(Y/I)’ was the text. You shook your head. It was too late for him to help you. He was gone.  
Later, you walked up the steps to 221B, absolutely exhausted from the day’s work. You blinked slowly, almost falling asleep before pushing the door open.  
“Sherlock, I’m home, please tell me you haven’t done anything...” you started, but trailed off when you were met with cold silence. You trudged inside and dropped your ever-present bag on the ground and flopped on the couch face down. Why did you keep forgetting? He was gone, but somehow, your brain refused to push out the little things that kept him there. You turned your head towards him chair, hoping he would be sitting with his violin and playing a sweet melody. The chair remained empty, no matter how hard you wished for it not to be. Standing, you walked over to his bedroom. Please be inside, you wished, but the bed was empty. A knock at the door snapped you out of your thoughts.  
“(Y/N)?” a voice rang out. Mrs. Hudson. “Are you in there, dear?”  
“Yes, I am,” you called back and returned to the living room.  
“What’re you doing here?”  
"Nothing. I'm just... nothing."  
***  
He watched from a distance, listening to her deductions. The body lay on the ground stiffly as she sent a text. Suddenly his phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it.  
'It was the father. -(Y/I)', he read, and saw it was from her. He closed his eyes, but couldn't text back. No, he was supposed to be gone, gone for a long time. And he couldn't say anything. Only watch from a distance. She hadn't forgot him yet, but she had to, or else he couldn't come back.  
"Forget me," he said, hoping she could hear him, and walked away.


End file.
